


your hand over my heart

by thefateofivalice



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: 5.3 spoilers, Angst, Death, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, in-depth descriptions of depression, self-care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:14:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25924213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefateofivalice/pseuds/thefateofivalice
Summary: grief is not pretty. it is not rational, nor is it fixed by a swift kiss from a lover. it is agony, it is darkness, and it will never, ever, go away.it can fade, though. days will pass, and the pain will be lessened. the only remedy to grief is time.it is a good thing, then, that they now have all the time in the world.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Original Character(s), G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 5
Kudos: 77





	your hand over my heart

**Author's Note:**

> 5.3 ended as well as it could, but the exarch is still gone. A'zaela still watched her lover turn to crystal. this is how she copes. (badly.) 
> 
> this is a gentle reminder to take care of yourself, and reach out for help if you need it. not just regarding patch 5.3. we are going through a very difficult time, and everyone is in chaos mode. take the time to be kind, to take a break, and to breathe.   
> /  
> IMPORTANT: yoshi-P says that the events of 2.0 to 5.0 have only been a few months. I do not like that idea. I like to think that each expac is a year and a half in game, which is why A'zaela tells G'raha that it has been five years since he went into the tower. so by the time he pulled her to the first, it had been 5 years since she'd last seen him, and 300 years for him (if I can do math. which I don't think I can.)

Static.

Her mind was filled with static. Minutes, hours, days passed without her notice, leaving her empty. 

Loss. She was dealing with loss. One so strange, so surreal that she didn’t even fully understand  _ what _ she was mourning. 

After all, how could she mourn when nobody had died?

She physically jerked herself away from that line of thought, not for the first time that day. Ashamed and overwhelmed, A’zaela curled into herself even further, trying to force her mind into silence.

More than anything, she wanted to lay down. She wanted to sleep and to forget. She wanted to turn her mind off for a few hours. She was exhausted, yet she couldn’t bring herself to close her eyes, let alone sleep. 

Sleep brought dreams. Dreams brought memories of crystal. Crystal surging up skin, encompassing clothing, swallowing him whole--

...

So that was why she sat, sequestered away from everyone, her knees brought up to her chest, time steadily slipping through her fingers. She didn’t know how long she’d been in this room. She didn’t know if it was day or night, or how long it had been since she’d last eaten. All she knew was darkness, the rawness of her throat and the pressure behind her eyes. 

Getting him out of the tower had been easy. Remarkably so. For all of the time she spent pounding on the Tower doors five years ago, begging to be let back in, watching the doors open for her with little resistance felt akin to mockery. That hadn’t mattered then, of course -- the only thing that mattered was getting G’raha Tia  _ out  _ of the Crystal Tower. 

So she had. She had carried him back to the Rising Stones and she had left him in Krile’s care. He needed a few days of recovery before he was well enough to stand on his own, time which A’zaela was all too willing to give. She visited him while he rested, making sure that his chest was rising and falling in his sleep. 

She had to be sure. She had to be sure that something else wouldn’t happen that would take him away again. She couldn’t handle it.

She couldn’t. 

Once G’raha (and the other Scions, of course, who she split her attention between equally) was feeling well enough, however, A’zaela had felt herself drained of everything. She had grown exhausted, and for someone who went days upon days without sleep, the feeling was strange. She skipped meals, and eventually slipped into her room and did not come out again. 

A’zaela hadn’t told a soul about what she was feeling. She had simply said that she was taking a few days to herself, and that she would be around again soon. What was there to tell? How could she explain this feeling? 

_ G’raha. You aren’t dead, but I still watched the man I love turn to crystal before my eyes. I held your soul in my hands as we took our first, last, and only journey of Norvrandt together. I watched you awaken from a five year slumber that you put yourself in willingly. I carried you back to Mor Dhona, tears streaming down my face.  _

_ I tell myself that you’re the same person, and a part of me knows that you are, _

_ But knowing that the Exarch, the one who saved the world for me and for everyone, is still in that tower, crystallized forever... _

_ It breaks my heart. _

A sob wrestled out of her throat. It was  _ fine _ . They had  _ merged _ . She had spent so long during their time in Norvrandt reminding him, the Exarch, that he was still G’raha, her G’raha, and yet— 

—yet now she was here, breaking herself into pieces over how G’raha wasn’t the Exarch, and that  _ wasn’t fair.  _

It wasn’t fair to him, and saying those words aloud would break him. 

She loved him, no matter what form he was in. The Exarch on the First, or G’raha Tia on the Source. A’zaela loved him fiercely, and she wanted to give him the world. All  _ he _ wanted was a life outside of the tower and an adventure to go on, and she could give that to him. She  _ wanted _ to give that to him. After everything he’d been through, she wanted to show him the world. 

_ But she was still in here, wasn’t she? _ Still sitting in that same spot, shaking and sobbing, watching the love of her life crystallize in her mind over and over again. 

All because she wasn’t fast enough. Wasn’t smart enough. Hadn’t fought Elidibus hard enough to save the Exarch from his fate. 

_ Wasn’t this always his choice, though?  _ A small voice whispered.  _ To return here with you?  _

Perhaps. The fact that he’d put his memories in the ampoule to begin with was proof of that, and yet... it didn’t still her grief. Didn’t still the way crystalline regret snaked up her arms and clawed down her throat, settling heavily in her stomach, threatening to take her down. 

It wasn’t fair of her to feel this way. Yet she felt it nonetheless, no matter how wrong it was. 

_ Watching your lover turn to crystal would do that to anyone, _ she thought.  _ Even if he did come out alive.  _

A’zaela knew that she needed to get up. She needed to shower and dry her tears, to change her clothes and her sheets. She needed to  _ get up _ . Yet, when her eyes glazed over to the floor, her mind whispered  _ no, no, no _ . 

She rolled over. She would take a few hours more. What A’zaela needed now was time. 

Even if she hated herself more for wasting the precious time that G’raha had given them.

-

There were still so many things to get used to now that G’raha was back in his old body. The weightlessness was what had struck him first. The mantle of a hundred years of extended life had been crushing, suffocating — and he had long since forgotten what it felt like to be young again. Nothing creaked when he moved. His joints no longer popped when he stood. His cane was no longer an extension of him, but instead, a rather heavy nuisance in his palm. 

G’raha, for lack of a better phrase, felt like an entirely new person. 

Perhaps he was. Perhaps his soul had been altered when he’d pushed new memories onto his young body, or perhaps he had changed so irrevocably during his final moments as Exarch that he simply wasn’t the same man anymore.

It felt new. It felt strange. It felt  _ good.  _

It felt...

Lonely, somehow. 

It shouldn’t--not really. The Scions were overwhelmingly kind to him—introducing him to members that were not always at the Warrior of Light’s side, buying him pints of ale and regaling stories to him like he was an old friend. There was hardly a moment of peace in the Seventh Dawn once the Scions had recovered from their soul snatch, what with everyone celebrating and working to find out their next move. He was included in it all, being shown the ropes and then being tossed from one person to the next in order to get the information he needed. 

Realistically, he was the furthest thing from lonely that he had been in years. Hundreds of years. He was thrilled and overjoyed, finally able to chase after this long sought after dream...

...and yet. 

When silence fell, and there was a lull in the excitement, the quiet was a terrible thing. There was just... nothing.

No hum of the Crystal Tower. No blue lights ever flickering in the corner of his eyes. No soft breath of the person sleeping beside him. 

All things he hadn’t realized meant so much to him until they were gone. 

...Perhaps it had been...foolish of him to think that he could yet occupy the Warrior of Light’s time even after their journey in Norvrandt had finished. A’zaela was needed everywhere, not just by him. It wasn’t like he wasn’t currently entirely overwhelmed by relearning his magics and how to be a proper scion, and yet...

He’d asked her to bring him with her on her next journey. He wanted to be at her side. Now more than ever, when the silence was suffocating him and his heart was yearning for some sense of familiarity. 

The fact that she hadn’t said a word before taking off didn’t sit well with him either. A’zaela was quiet in nature, but she’d always told him where she was off to back in Norvrandt. She’d go with a smile and a wave, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before she went. 

This time she’d been silent. She’d slipped out before anyone had the chance to say anything to her — even though his gaze had hardly left her. He wasn’t entirely sure how she’d pulled it off. 

“As lost in your books as ever, I see,” a familiar voice spoke up from beside him. “Though I seem to detect a hint of distraction. You’ve been reading that same page for half a bell now, Raha.” 

_ Half a bell?  _ That’s absurd —

G’raha turned to face Krile, a bewildered look in his eyes. Had he truly been zoning out for that long? 

He promptly closed the book with a loud  _ thump _ , then his ears flicked back upon realizing he hadn’t taken the care to slip a bookmark between the pages. Krile seemed to take note of this as well, an eyebrow raising in curiosity. 

She made her way over to the seat opposite of him, pulling herself up close to the table. He gave her a sheepish smile, trying to gather his thoughts long enough to give a reasonable excuse for zoning out for as long as he had. 

A younger version of him might conjure up a witty retort. He, however, was not so like-minded. 

“My apologies. I was so caught up in understanding this theory that my mind escaped me. I also was not aware I was under such scrutiny.” 

Krile put her elbows up on the table, then placed her head daintily in her hands. He knew that look in her eyes before she even spoke. That look told him—

“Theories? In a cookbook, Raha?” 

—that she had caught him in a lie. 

His ears flattened, and his fingers fumbled against the spine of the book, eyes searching for the title. 

_ Thaumaturgy: Volume 1 of 14. _

Oh. 

“You haven’t read a single word of that book,” Krile accused softly. “Come, old friend, tell me what’s occupying your mind. I know it’s been a few centuries since we spoke, but I’d like to think that I still have a good ear for listening.” 

G’raha let go of the book once more and scrubbed a hand over his face. Where could he even begin? He couldn’t very well tell Krile that he was yearning for the Warrior of Light. He might have told her all about his old fancies back when they studied together, but this was different. A’zaela wasn’t just a fancy. She was his light, his inspiration. She had cradled his memories carefully in her palms and brought him back home, to Eorzea. He couldn’t diminish that feeling for her like that. 

Not to mention, he had just achieved his dream of becoming a Scion, and he wanted to vent about  _ love _ ? It all seemed very silly...but he couldn’t help the way he felt. 

Worst of all, he couldn’t lie to Krile. She’d see it coming miles away. Claiming ‘ _ I’m fine!’  _ was not an option. 

“‘Tis a rather large adjustment, being back here again. It’s nothing to worry yourself about, I assure you.” 

“Raha,” Krile said, her voice a soft warning. “All I ask is the truth. I know what I’m getting myself into by asking. Please.” 

Scolded. He hadn’t been scolded in years — unless one would count Alisaie screaming at him for taking her away from the battle. His ears flicked back and he grimaced. 

“You could always see through me,” he said, shoulders slumping. “Well, then, if you must know, I am worried about Zae—” he stopped, correcting himself. Did he have the right to call her by her given name, now that they were in Eorzea? “A’zaela. I’ve not heard anything from her in a few days, and...I am beginning to worry. Baselessly, of course. She is a woman of high repute, and she can take care of herself.” 

_ But she said she would take me with her, should she go off again. She said we’d adventure together. If that was a lie, then... _

“Then I don’t know what I’d do.” 

The words rushed out of him before he fully comprehended that he was speaking. He hardly realized he’d said them until his ears caught up with his mouth, the jilted confession tumbling from quiet lips. 

And yet, he rushed on, not wanting to give the wrong idea—

“She is her own person, of course, and I hardly expected her to take me by the hand and lead me through Eorzea. I am very busy here as it is, learning what it takes to become a proper scion. I...I simply wish to speak with her. Her departure was abrupt, and her silence is not normal, in my experience.”  _ She’d come to speak with me in the tower every night while I was searching for a way to bring the scions home. She must have been so busy, yet she made time to bring me food and make me rest, though I needed neither. We’ve shared the same bed for months.  _

_ I miss her, but I no longer understand where our relationship lies. That scares me, Krile. _

That, he does not say aloud. Those confessions were his alone, and he held them close to his chest. 

Something he was very good at doing after his time as Exarch.

“Well, I suppose I can solve one problem for you, then. A’zaela has not left Mor Dhona, as far as I’m aware. I don’t believe she’s even left the building.” 

G’raha’s ears shot up straight. “Truly? But I haven’t seen her in days! That can’t be right.”

Krile tilted her head to the side, sparing him a curious glance. “Have you thought about using your linkpearl to call her, then? The Scion mandated one?” 

Ah. Throughout the chaos of the past week, he’d all but forgotten about it. He’d worn it the first day, but the bickering between Alisaie and Alphinaud had gotten to be a bit much, and once he’d seen Y’shtola sitting around with it placed far away from her, he’d opted to do the same. 

“Listen,” Krile said, looking over at him seriously. “I cannot claim to understand everything that went on between the two of you. A’zaela does not often speak of her feelings, least of all to us. She bottles it up, to the point where she’s been known to go weeks without speaking a word. It’s her way of...protecting us, though we never truly wanted that of her.

“But I have heard stories from before my time. Stories of how she spent weeks in front of the tower’s doors, begging you to let her in. Of how both Cid and Rammbroes needed to hold her back from locking herself inside the tower with you. I myself remember those months where she would return from the First with a smile—the first I’d ever seen from her. 

“I don’t know much, Raha, but you mean something to her. You are returned to her, but that does not mean everything is perfect in her mind. She watched you turn to crystal. She lost you a second time. That cannot be easy on her.” 

G’raha’s eyes were blown wide, and his jaw clenched painfully. He’d known—he’d known this path wouldn’t be easy. He’d worried and worried for months about the outcome of his choice, but he was here now, he was  _ alive _ . 

But she was still hurting. 

Gods, what a fool he’d been. 

“Where can I find her?” he asked, his throat tight. 

“Upstairs, I believe. Second door on the right.” 

Abandoning his books and Krile, G’raha took off in the direction of the stairs. His mind was a blur, his heart pounding in his chest. Everything within him whispered  _ fool—you’re such a fool, G’raha Tia! _

He stopped dead in front of her door, panting lightly. He reached out to knock, but just before his knuckles reached the hardwood, he froze.

Through the door, he could hear her. His ears flicked upward, trying to focus on the sound. His heart broke when he heard it—soft, broken cries that were no doubt being muffled by her hands or her pillow. 

How long had she been suffering? How long had he sat in ignorance, wondering whether or not she’d come find him?

He could wait no longer. He knocked on the door, once, twice. The noise behind it stopped instantly, and guilt swallowed him. 

“Zae—A’zaela?” he called out, knocking once more. “I-I know you’re there. Can I speak with you?” 

After a few terrible seconds of silence, something shuffled behind the door. The lock clicked and the handle moved, his anxiety ramping up with each simple step. 

Finally, she appeared, and he had no doubt that his shock was written clearly on his face. 

She looked like a shadow of herself. Akin to the way she’d looked when he’d summoned her to the First—except now red rimmed her eyes and nose the same way the dark circles set into her skin. It was clear that she’d tried to wipe her tears before opening the door, but she wasn’t successful—she was red and puffy and—she was looking at him and her eyes were filling up with tears once more—

“I’m sorry,” she said, immediately bringing up her free hand to wipe at her face. Tears and snot mingled, and she tried to close the door on him, but he brought up his hand just in time to keep it open. 

He wasn’t afraid to see her like this. If she didn’t want him, he would go—but Goddess help him, he didn’t want to leave her side. 

“A’zaela,” he said softly, pleadingly. “Would you let me in? I’d like to help.” 

The look she gave pierced him. She was so sad, and so...afraid. A’zaela was...scared of something. 

Could it be him? 

She stepped away from the door, leaving it open for him. 

“Okay.” 

-

She should have said no. 

She should have said she was sick, or that she wasn’t feeling well—anything to get him to turn the other way. 

But A’zaela wouldn’t lie to him. They had made a promise together. No matter how big or small the lie may be, she would never consider lying to him. 

So she let him in, into the room that she had kept purposefully dark for Goddess knows how long. She shuffled over to the windows to open up a curtain, only to realize that there was no sun out in Mor Dhona. She was left looking out at the aether-filled sky, which held a handful of distant stars for a moment before she forced herself to look away. 

Stars reminded her far too much of Norvrandt, and following that line of thought right now was dangerous. 

“Ah...sorry. I thought it was earlier in the day. I’ve lost track of time.” A’zaela moved over to her bed, flicking on the lamp on the table. She plopped down, then pulled the blanket up around her shoulders. An extra layer of armor, of sorts. 

She was being ridiculous. This was  _ G’raha.  _ She loved him—she is  _ in love with this man— _ yet still felt the need to hide. What was  _ wrong  _ with her? 

G’raha moved across the room until he was standing in front of her, and when she refused to look up at him, he kneeled down, urging her to look up. 

A’zaela, with her throat closing, memories of crystal crawling up his legs threatening to overtake her, finally met his eyes. Those beautiful, red eyes, which would never see Norvrandt again. Never able to see the garden that he once grew. 

Tears fell immediately. It was a wonder that she even had any more left to cry. G’raha didn’t even manage to get a word out before she was standing, dropping the blanket and stepping away from him towards the door. 

Her instincts told her to  _ run, run, run,  _ because anything she had to say right now would only hurt him. Her feelings were painful things, sharp with thorns, and if she let them touch anyone else, they would be harmed just as much as she was. She couldn’t let that happen. 

“Zaela—“

Something wrapped around her wrist and held firm. He held tight to her, silently begging her to stay. She could rip her arm away and she could run — far, far away from Mor Dhona until her lungs were filled with Coerthan ice, and he would have no chance of finding her. 

But she didn’t want that. All she wanted was  _ time _ . Time to figure things out, to sort them into carefully placed containers where she could then shove them into the deepest corners of her mind and forget about them. 

G’raha didn’t seem content on letting her do that, though. Neither did he let her run from him. He carefully, slowly, placed himself behind her, letting his chest touch her back. The wrist that he had grabbed before moved with him as he placed both of their hands over her heart. His hand was bigger than hers, with less callouses, and it encompassed her own in a gentle warmth. 

“I’m sorry,” G’raha murmured, breath brushing across her ear. It twitched a few times against her volition. “I’ve hurt you terribly, haven’t I? And I left you alone for so long...I’m sorry, A’zaela.” 

She quickly tried to refute him. “No, no, I...I wanted to be alone. I did.” She had to bring her hand up to brush her face, wiping away more tears that had fallen. “I don’t...I don’t know what to say.” 

Anything she  _ could  _ say would only hurt him. She didn’t want that. 

“Let us start from the beginning, then. You disappeared a week after my...ah, awakening. Have you been here this whole time?” 

She couldn’t lie. “Yes.” 

“And you’ve been...like this?” 

She squeezed her eyes shut, her head falling. “Yes.” 

“Might I ask you why?” 

His voice was so soft. So gentle. So very  _ real.  _ Hearing it only made things worse, when the vision of him succumbing to crystal still seared her eyelids. 

“Because I lost you,” she said, her voice precious seconds from breaking. 

G’raha fell silent. A’zaela choked out a sob. She wished she could erase the last five minutes for both of them, because she knew anything she had to say would only break them. 

But once she started, she could not stop. 

“Five years ago I lost you to the Tower. I watched those doors close. I watched you walk out of my life. Five years I mourned you, thinking I’d lost the only person I’d ever loved. Then—then you come  _ back,  _ and I fall in love just as easily as the first time. You try to sacrifice yourself again, to become a Lightwarden in my stead. I defy all odds to get us both out alive. We spend months together afterward. Precious, beautiful months, where we find the time to love one another—and then I learn that during the entire time you had planned to sacrifice yourself. Again. After I begged you not to lie to me, or to throw your life away and  _ die—“  _

Her knees shook, and he managed to catch her before they gave out. He brought them both to the floor safely as A’zaela sobbed, heart shattering cries that filled the small space. G’raha held her tightly, close to his chest, his hand never once leaving its spot over her heart. 

When she can speak again, she goes on. “I never wanted you to turn to crystal,” she hiccups. “I never wanted you to use the last of your power to save me. I wasn’t fast enough to save you—if only I was strong enough, if I had just killed Elidibus before he found you, you wouldn’t be frozen on top of that  _ accursed  _ tower that has done  _ nothing  _ but steal you away and break me over and over again.” 

She’s hysterical. Absolutely hysterical--but she can’t stop. He doesn’t  _ try _ to stop her, either. Eventually, her voice weakens until it is only a whisper. 

“And it hurts, Raha. It hurts because you’re right here.” Her other hand moved to grasp his. “You’re right behind me. You made your choice, and you yet live. But I watched you die. You died because I wasn’t strong enough. That statue on top of the Crystal Tower, which people will leave offerings to and revere for ages, will always be proof of that. You will be stuck there forever, and I could do nothing to stop it.”

More tears. More deep, heaving breaths. 

“And do you know the worst part of it all? It’s that I couldn’t hold any of this in. I couldn’t let you enjoy your life as a Scion. I couldn’t bring you on your adventure before I ruined it. These feelings I have—they’re wrong. They’re so, so wrong. You’re alive and here, and I can’t even look at you. What does that say about me?” 

Despite her words, G’raha was glad that she could not see him. All she would see was his own tears, which would only make her feel worse. 

He wasn’t crying over his loss. As the Exarch, he had made his decision long ago. He would not forget that, even as he held her sobbing, trembling body. He knew that were she in a better place, she would understand — but grief is not sensible. It is not kind. He knew this all too well. 

She needed to speak her worries aloud. She needed to scream and fight until she could no longer, then she could find the respite that she so sorely needed. G’raha was only crying because he had let her go on for so long without him. Even a few days was too long. 

“We have both made mistakes these past few days, it seems,” G’raha spoke, his voice filled with gravel. “Might...might I tell you my part--Why I made these choices? My hope...my wish, is that it will give you the tools you need to bear this weight I have set upon your shoulders. If you can handle the sound of my voice, that is.” 

A’zaela was barely moving in his arms. Her cries had silenced, though they had not completely tapered off. She wasn’t shaking, either. He prayed that this meant she was coming down from her hysterics. 

“I can listen,” she mumbled. “Please.” 

It was a Herculean task to gather his thoughts—but gather them he did. They had saved an entire world together. He could do this for her. For himself. 

“There is so much to be said regarding the loss of a life. It never gets easier. I had prayed that my awakening on this shard would spare you this pain, but I can see that I was very much mistaken. For that, I am sorry.” 

He squeezed her hand gently. “You spoke of the months we spent together in the Crystarium. It was the shortest time of my hundreds of years, yet I remember them with frightening clarity. I remember the resentment in your eyes when you first met the Exarch. I remember the first time you called my name when the hood came off. I remember how I sent you home for the first time after we had defeated Hades, and the way you slipped right back through the portal to check on me. 

“I remember our first kiss. The memory is seared into my mind, and every day I awaken and wonder for a few fleeting moments if it was just a dream. There are so many memories like that. The first time you called me my true name in the quiet halls of the Crystal Tower. The day we first began sharing a bed. 

G’raha closed his eyes. “But despite all of these good things happening between us, I knew it could not last. I knew that if I fell into complacency, I would lose you. I was stuck, Zaela. I could not leave the tower. I would be delegated to staying behind, just as I was five years ago for you when you first ventured into the tower. We would never be able to adventure together. You would go off to another battlefield, and I would wait for you to return, praying that the kiss we shared would not be the last. I did not want that for you...and, selfishly, I did not want that for myself.” 

“When I said I wanted to be by your side, I meant  _ by your side.  _ I’ve wanted to be free of the fate that had been thrusted upon me for centuries. So I did — I took the power that had been given to me, and I used it. We saved Norvrandt and Eorzea. Best of all, I saved you. And now, we are here, together. I could not ask for anything greater than this.

“...you are correct, however. The Exarch has passed. But he has left G’raha Tia the greatest gift of all: life in his stead.” 

Once he finished his speech, silence fell between them. For a while, A’zaela simply sat, wiping at her tears, trying to calm herself down. He did not say anything--he simply waited for her response. He would give her as much time as she needed. 

“No,” A’zaela whispered. G’raha tensed automatically, wondering where he’d gone wrong. “You are right about all but one thing. G’raha Tia  _ was  _ the Exarch. Just as the Exarch was G’raha Tia. It’s something I spent so long trying to remind you of, but I forgot when it mattered most. But now...you are just you. Raha.  _ My _ Raha. And you want to know how I know that?” 

G’raha pressed his face into the crook of her neck, his lips gracing warm skin as he awaited her answer. 

“Your hand has never left my heart.” 

His eyes widened. His fingers twitched lightly upon the mention of them. He had done it to comfort her, but he’d never considered taking his hand away. He’d wanted to feel her heart beat beneath his fingertips, and to remind  _ her  _ that she was still here. He’d meant it to ground her when she was still so far away from him.

Apparently, it had worked. 

“I hope you can forgive me,” A’zaela whispered. “For forgetting what matters most. For hurting you in this way.” 

“I am unhurt,” G’raha said truthfully. If it were A’zaela on top of that tower instead of him, would he not react in the same way? With grief and agony? “...but I do hope we can continue from here. That you will find me if you are hurting. Speak with me before it gets this bad.” 

“I will,” she said. “I will not have to go far. Do not think I’ve forgotten about your final request. I owe you adventures. Handfuls of them. Hundreds of them. You’ll be begging for time away from me.” 

“No, I won’t. I don’t think you realize how impossible that is.” 

A’zaela smiled. Her first smile in days. It lasted a few seconds, but it was all she needed. It was enough. 

“Can you stand?” he asked. “I’d like to whisk you away to a shower, should you be so inclined.” 

A’zaela shut her eyes and leaned back. 

“A shower sounds lovely.” 

-

It would be some time before she came to term with her grief. A’zaela has lost many on her journey, and is certain to lose more. She fights against her self worth alongside terrible foes, criticizing every move she makes when something bad happens. 

She is not perfect. There will be days when her pain is worse than normal. A dull, sharp knife twisted within her gut as she stares up blankly at the Crystal Tower. 

But when those days come, G’raha will find her, and he will place his hand over her heart and stare up at it with her. 

They may not be perfect, but they have one another. 

For now, that is enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me at @powerwordgill on twitter. I write NSFW as well, so expect that if you're 18+. 
> 
> thank you so much for reading. I hope you take care of yourself.


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